On the most literal level, Natsume Soseki is giving us the image of a lamp going out. When that strong, close light is no longer there, our eyes can then see the stars in the night sky through the window. Just three lines are enough to give us that beautiful moment.

But, of course, the meaning expands, with several possible interpretations. One way to read it is that the lamp light could suggest the ego. That is the familiar light we normally live by. It is useful in that it allows us to interact effectively with the immediate environment. But we forget that it also affects our focus and limits our full vision. It is only when it finally goes out, that we can see vastness of the night sky and its glistening, heavenly stars…

Natsume Soseki is probably best known as a novelist, sometimes referred to as the Charles Dickens of Japan. He wrote stories with both humanity and an unflinching eye. But he was also a teacher, a cultural critic, a Zen practitioner, and an author of haiku.

Soseki was born in Tokyo and graduated from Tokyo University. He then became a middle school and high school teacher of English language and literature.

In the early 1900’s several of his stories were published in serialized form in magazines, establishing his career as a writer.

Around this time, Soseki also started showing signs of tuberculosis, an illness he never fully shook off. To cope with his illness, Soseki began to practice Zen meditation.

So few words conveying so much from Natsume Soseki. I am drawn to look up his writing and read more. I like your interpretations, too, Ivan. Yes, when the light of our ego diminishes we see more.
I experienced that this past week on a retreat in a
hermitage out here on Long Island. Literally looking out into the dark at the moon and the stars slowly emerging– and on an inner level when I let go of my push to “find answers” — being opened to the Presence of God already there– lightening me up.